|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Light the WayHe said he was looking for someone,
anyone out there in this cruel world that cares about him.
So I told him: despite the people that have let you down in the past,
there are still people out there who care for you
and want to protect you from those who have hurt you.
For those people that have hurt him have missed out on something wonderful,
that is, the opportunity to see that past his quiet exterior
is a person with a remarkable personality waiting to shine.
I was there for him then, and will be always.
A hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on;
No matter what the circumstances, I will be here
to pick him up when he falls
Rainbow FactoryBeyond the perverted sickness of men is a place,
Within a city in the sky,
Beneath any hell,
Beyond any star,
Where beautiful colors are made.
Mechanical horrors manufacture life into death into the colors of the skies
Going unnoticed by those who marvel at its deceptively captivating work
Hidden from sight it is the perfect secret. An unseeable scar.
It is the rainbow factory. More real than any nightmare.
A thousand years of invisible fears hath dwelled upon here into the eternity of beauty
Here beyond the heavens,
Where you can see its majesty but cannot hear its scream.
Lunar SolitaireShe is loved by the stars and the mirrors,
She is an unknown goddess who plays solitaire on the moon
All she wants is love and you do not know her name,
She does not know your games,
She does not want to be alone,
She wants love so much,
And yet she is feared, the one who's scared the most.
No heaven knows more beauty, no hell more pain...
She has returned now with the holy gift of night
But do you know her name?
InsomniaStrange sounds on sleepless nights
Silver bells, tolling bright
Sing me something sad and slow
Slip into the undertow
Seeing sights that are not there
Seeing sunlight everywhere
Silent sleeper, not a peep
Surely, I just need some sleep
GiftsDear loved earth below and sky above,
I wish for hardened hooves upon my feet,
The kind in which allow for awesome feats
So I can reach my beloved with ease.
To mother dearest with the magic grace,
I long for feathered wings stitched upon my back
Made from white angel hair and virgin breath
Which grant safe travels and Godspeed at most.
My sweet father below the seven seas,
I yearn for scaled fins to replace my legs
So I may see my adored, who rests below
And weep over her demise on your front door.
Into WordsHave you ever tried to put lust into words?
To rise at dawn and weave a song with the birds'.
Have you ever tried to put perfection into verse?
Love is a blessing, and life is a curse.
Words will not suffice to unlock a heart's power
You're wasting your breath with each spoken hour.
But don't run for the shadows, don't tremble, don't cower.
Just let your chains fall, and lay siege to love's tower.
PandemoniumSip it or I will free Mr. Mouse. Groping a lemur is advised in some countries. Veal and a small portion of tiramisu. Thanks. Jeffrey's golfing talent was undermined by repeated declarations of "HAM SANDWICH!" Braille on the moors, braille on the moors. Take that away from her or Master Porko will jam like it's 1734. Moussa Kusa and Galileo, Harold Shipman in a Ford Mondeo.
Ultra-camp. "I wasn't going to tell you, but Weal has a packet of crisps." Erm, are you sure a hint of spice is okay on my eczema? Gebremeskel was charged with a drive-by shooting in the early 90s. Accurate reports were not expected. He flushed her misery down the toilet &
Mind's NameSlide down into my mind
Look through my eyes
See a world
Rotten and bad
That'll drive you mad
I don't enjoy the pain too much
But it makes me happy too
I just don't feel normally
But aroused when I watch you
Bizarre and destructive
Hurricane they call me dear
I'll hurt you, sadly, I don't want to
But let's make it clear:
I told you so
I sold you, so?
I am insane
I told you so,
You could've known
It was wrong
To pick up the phone
To tell me your name
All you know
Only to be left to die
To watch me go
Do you enjoy the ride?
My thinking pattern must work wrong
I heard you say it must be fixed
I heard you sing y
StringString can be used for lots of things, but mostly tying things together. Connecting them, making them stronger. But what if string is pulling things in different directions, each direction demanding attention, putting pressure on the system?
Sometimes your strings might run alongside another, creating an affinity, improving relations. It's not dragging you sideways and it's not dragging you down, it's not pulling you away from yourself but sometimes, it can lift you up.
Making me stronger is my closest friend, we don't tangle but we braid, we weave, we spiral round each other. We are each a kite bearer for the other, holding a few of the str
Society LiesThe stranger in the mirror
Identity stamped out, covered up
With the ignorance of the staring eyes
Who am I...who are we
Their words engraved into our skin
Written down to never be forgotten
Monotonous, mindless, are we all just one and the same?
Who am I...who are we
When will enough ever be enough?
When will we wash away these lies?
These empty words, what do they really mean?
Forever etched into our minds
Who am I...who are we
Reflection in the mirror, rekindling of a spirit
And only one remains
Freedom to be
For I am who I am
My identity is for me but all to see
Just take a look in the mirror
Time's PastPrecipice rise
Through the opportunists time
And at the indecisive line, halt,
Where I could stand or
In the cradle alone
Enveloped in dusky glow
And soft resonance nigh,
Wordless lilt, asleep by
Waken illusion's eye
And dream the vision,
He and I.
To recall again
At daybreak's beckon,
A high hope held downcast
And rue the old opportunists mind.
Soaring o'er foreign skies
To collect a harvest
Of truth amid lies
Her nacelles streamlined
Concealing a mechanical fury
And unmatched among the airborne
Designed in a place called The Skunk Works
America's brightest minds conceived
A dragon built of titanium
That drank JP-7 jet fuel
Her mission was reconnaissance
Deep in enemy territory
Recording over 100,000/sq.mi. in an hour
From 80,000 feet
After the Okinawan Pit Viper
She was lean, sleek and fast
Kadena AB to Beale AFB was her habitat
Mach 3+ in the stratosphere
Her pilots and engineers
Our Nation's premier
Five minutesA stare, a smile,
In five minutes you can fall in love,
A shout, wrong words,
In five minutes you may die,
Start to feel the hate,
Or maybe say a lie,
Do you see now?
Do you believe me how?
Only five minutes to destroy it all,
Only five minutes to let it fall.
In five minutes your whole life can simply shatter,
As mine, believe me now,
I'm about to explain you how,
To tell you a story about my soul,
About only five minutes,
Only five minutes to destroy it all,
Only five minutes to let it fall.
In five minutes my world has been destroyed,
In five minutes he erased my smile,
That I trie
Pathway to HellFreshly torn skin,
Hangs from the limbs of
Still dripping black blood
Of the innocent.
Billions of heads
Lined down my pathway.
I look to see if they are watching,
But in replace of the eyes
Are just empty sockets.
At the end of my path
Lies a throne
Made of countless human bones.
I sit and wait patiently,
In my royal chair.
The bones come alive,
As a set of hands
Rips open my chest,
And steals my heart.
It dissects me, just like the others.
This is it.
I’ve made it to hell.
MondaySwimming in tranquil waters unknown
On this day of Monday
A cold scarlet haze slowing time constricting space
On this holy day of Monday
A gilded labyrinth prison for the mind
This day of Monday
A staircase to eternity
The first step is Monday
The chaos storm of life
Eye of the storm Monday
Monday Island in the sky
Monday secret wings of the eye
Monday sacred key to time
Dream TravelFrom here
This constant distance constricts me and transcends me
as I travel through my dreams.
I see myself in shattered mirrors; a million shards of unfading hope crying for resolve.
And then I turn to see myself now, staring into the abyss, as if waiting for some kind of madness.
As present moves to past, the abyss becomes a door,
through which I move into the future.
My dreams suddenly, gradually crossfade into ever-vivid reality.
I travel further.
The events following resemble deja-vu, and perchance such is so of some lost prophetic vision;
change, like a thief in the night, from mere shards to to being they once were,
like a forgotten best friend.
OuroborosOuroboros am I
who eats his tail and watches it bleed
day after day, as if in a temporal prison of his own device.
I stand at the threshold of eternity,
and if I were so inclined I would seize it and wield it unfalteringly,
and become at peace.
But my eyes are clouded by the illusion of time's ashes blown away,
leaving me but to eat my tail further
and watch it bleed again.
I am a martyr of chaos,
a sleepless dreamer,
a hero unborn.
I am Ouroboros.
Songbird CageFree men entrapped in a cage gilded by faith alone
sing their despairing song,
which sings of a hope close to their heart and
yet so far away,
and echoes the inevitable,
for which they wait and hope for so strongly.
The gaoler, too, is a prisoner to melancholy,
wilting his heart
and burning his mind with a whisper of freedom;
which falls on deaf ears for one so queer
as to be blind to happiness.
And so the caged song sings
"Let the gaoler be free!"
and goes unsung by the gaoler's lies,
like all others an inner death of its speaker
or a cure for his blindness perchance,
but inevitably consequential.
Metropolis, Citadel of DreamAwakening is a blindness through which wisdom can see;
dreaming is the solvent that brings it into being.
This dreaming is becoming of the meek,
whom are beckoned by it.
Life, love, death, and time: these visions of the meek
Are the construction of Metropolis, the citadel of dream.
Its stance is erect as it reaches for the light with cloudless breath;
the light of the ever-giving night which it harbors.
The flora of the heart is growing in its gardens,
which whispers poetry to the sprite hiding behind your eyes.
There is a silence in the streets cracking at the seems
waiting for the song of a songbird freed.
Perchance it would be freed by that sprite never seen,
and sing thus a song of harmony in spring:
"The temptress of murder is a martyr of nightmare
whom might dwell in shadow but is scarcely found,
if you see her be aware and unafraid
for she will pass like a ripple in a pond,
perhaps without a word."
And if this song t'were heard,
all betwixt heaven an
Another WorldThere lies an oasis in the desert of time,
which manifests as a rainforest of strangers and creatures.
This is a theater of untold depths which screens the cosmos itself,
wherein a vigil lies at which people pray every day for revolution.
Gay horses may be crowned as kings of fantasy lands here;
lands vastly perverted yet beautiful as the heavens.
This is another world altogether, beyond the sleepless wall of dreams,
where a faceless dark white man hides in the trees.
the natural order is maintained by chaos and sacrilege,
there are squids who swim with schizoid maidens in the deepest regions of the moonlight,
and every face is a hallucinogenic masquerade.
I have seen firsthand the creatures that dwell in here:
the smiling killer with the eyes of abyssal fire,
the man who scoffs laughingly on his soapbox at the strangers who envelop him,
the great collective of Clover, flawlessly lawless in their garden whose flora is nightmares of mass repulsion,
the stand-up prophe
The Poet of LogicOther poets write from their heart,
she rights from her logical mind.
She communicates her poetry with her actions, awkward and occasionally cryptic.
Those who can read it are rare and seldom found,
leaving her well-organized verses to be a perpetual charade;
a charade that teaches her what logic has yet known,
so that perchance she might see what her poetry could sow
if only it were read.
Dream of YouthShe has all the time in the world
But all she wants is a day,
A day to live her entire life
In every fractured way.
She wants to find her way today
Instead of looking for tomorrow,
Yet she always wonders why
Every day is bleak and hollow.
She looks for wisdom high and low
Here and there and in between,
But instead of wisdom all she sees
Is a picture show of her own dreams.
She's looking for another door
To take her far away from home,
But if she ever finds it at last
Then she will truly be alone.
She lives the troubled life of youth
But she lives it not alone,
She lives it with her many friends
And among them is her future's own.
Keep in Touch!
`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More